


Day 2: Hand Kink

by ImagineBeatles



Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [3]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Paul, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Magical Mystery Smut Month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: To think John had beautiful hands wasn’t that odd, exactly. John thought Paul was beautiful too and told him that more often than what was probably appropriate. But John, Paul was fairly certain, did not get aroused from watching Paul’s hands do the most mundane tasks. And he doubted John’s head ever filled itself with the lust-soaked thoughts he had to struggle with on a daily basis.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811731
Comments: 12
Kudos: 84





	Day 2: Hand Kink

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of my magical mystery smut challenge. Thank you all for your excitement so far!! I did write this while not feeling 100% great, but I did my best with this one! I hope you guys like it!

April 1966.

Paul had always had a strange love for John’s hands. He thought they were beautiful; rough and large, defined with the veins clearly visible, pushing up from underneath the pale skin, his fingers straight and long, with carefully cut nails and calloused tips. He had always liked the look of them, while John smoked, or played guitar, plucking the strings or sliding his fingers over the neck, pushing down onto the metal strings so firmly the skin turned white, or when he scribbled lyrics onto a piece of paper. Paul liked watching him as he rolled them both a joint, lighting Paul’s before carefully placing it between his lips for him.

Admittedly, to think John had beautiful hands wasn’t that odd, exactly. John thought Paul was beautiful too and told him that more often than what was probably appropriate; from his pretty face, to his long legs, to his ass, to his chest, to the curve of his back, to, indeed, his hands. But John, Paul was fairly certain, did not get aroused from watching Paul’s hands do the most mundane tasks. And he doubted John’s head ever filled itself with the lust-soaked thoughts he had to struggle with on a daily basis. 

He liked the length of John’s fingers, the thickness of them, the way the muscles pulled taut and relaxed when John grabbed something, or wrote something down, or did  _ anything else _ . And even when John let his hands hang frustratingly unused alongside his body or let them rest on a table or his thigh, Paul’s mind would fill itself with all sorts of different ideas of what he wanted to do to those hands. 

John was well aware of how much Paul loved his hands, Paul knew. He caught Paul staring at them often enough, a lusty haze in his eyes, biting down his lip as he shuffled in his seat. He wasn’t very subtle, John had said, but Paul didn't care. He figured George and Ringo knew too, maybe even George Martin, watching them from the control room. But he didn’t care. He had always been attracted to hands, and John’s were no exception. They were the most beautiful hands Paul had ever laid his eyes on, and Paul wanted to adore them, the way they deserved. 

When they got home from the studio after a long recording session, when it was late and dark but life in London had not yet died down, Paul loved to show John all he had been thinking about that day. 

Today, he had planted himself in John’s lap. They were in the bedroom, the curtains pulled closed, the stone walls of Cavendish hiding them away from the world that always seemed to want something from them. John sat propped up against the headboard, a pillow behind his back, smoking a ciggie as he watched Paul cradle his other hand, stroking it with his fingers, brushing his lips against the skin. It was their own intimate little world, a place Paul hoped he would never lose. 

“The skin is broken,” Paul said as he inspected his lover’s fingertips, letting his own fingers run over the rough patches of skin. John chuckled as he watched him. 

“You had me replay that rhythm guitar part far too many times, love,” he mumbled, not so much as a complaint but as an admission. He took another drag from his ciggie, and Paul’s eyes rested on the way he held the cigarette loosely between his fingers, before he turned his attention back to the hand he was holding. 

“How terrible of me,” he replied, sounding almost thoughtful, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the broken skin of his lover’s middle finger, earning himself a grumbled little noise. 

“Should’ve been more careful with you,” he continued, and pressed a kiss to the next finger as well, and the next, and the next, leaving kisses on each of them, before moving back to the first. 

“Aye, you should’ve,” John said, voice tight, and Paul’s lips pulled into a grin as he finally opened his mouth and closed his lips around the tip of John’s ring finger, giving a gentle suck. 

“Christ... your mouth…” John breathed at the sight. He pushed his finger deeper, watching with an increasingly heady gaze as Paul took it without complaint. “Fucking sinful.”

Instead of letting Paul suck on it for a little while longer, as Paul had hoped he would, John instead removed his hand and brought it down to grab at Paul’s hip. He placed his half-finished cigarette in the ashtray next to the bed, and cupped Paul’s cheek, bringing him in for a kiss, the hold on his hip tightening as Paul opened his mouth for him. 

“You’re making me hard, baby,” he said and Paul hummed as John inched his hips up, allowing Paul to feel exactly what kind of an effect he was having on his lover, his eyes falling close. “And I know what you want.”

“Do you?” Paul asked, more to tease than anything else as he leaned forward for another kiss, one that John refused him, holding him back by his shoulder as the hand on Paul’s hip slid further down to his backside. 

“I always do.” 

Without warning, John flipped them over, rolling Paul onto his back as he climbed on top of him, legs on either side of his hips, his hands coming up to rest on Paul’s shoulders. 

“I always know, Macca. And I’ve seen you looking all day, and it wasn’t just because you wanted to make sure I was playing the part correctly.” 

Paul swallowed thickly as John removed one hand and brought it to his lips, running his fingers over his mouth, following the curve of his lips as Paul opened them eagerly for him. Much to his frustration, however, John did not dip his fingers inside, but kept them right out of reach, like an owner dangling a treat in front of his dog, but not allowing him to take it. 

“John…” Paul murmured, whinging almost, before John shushed him with another kiss. When he felt John’s hand slip between their bodies to undo the button and zipper of his trousers, Paul knew what he was going to do. And God… he needed it. 

“Calm now, love. Let me take care of you,” John shushed him as he pulled away again, giving Paul’s crotch a squeeze through his opened trousers, but instead of calming Paul, it only made him want it more. He let out a whine as he tried inching his hips up, but his lover’s body was too heavy for him to move. He didn’t realise he had closed his eyes until he felt something prodding his mouth, and opening them he saw two of John’s fingers, long and inviting, right in front of him. Letting out a hungry growl, Paul opened his mouth and moaned as John pushed them in. 

“God, you’re always so eager for my fingers,” John mused and Paul closed his eyes as he sucked, letting his tongue slide up and down the two digits, circling them, and taking them deeper and deeper each time. 

Next he felt his trousers being undone, and John’s weight vanished as he moved to remove them, dragging his underwear down with it. Forcing his eyes open, Paul raised his head to look down at where John sat now between his legs. He opened them a little wider for him, moaning as John took a firm hold of his knee, bending it and raising his up; Paul supposed to create more space for himself. 

John was staring at him, his gaze drifting from Paul’s legs and up over his stomach, his chest, and his face, resting there for a moment as he watched Paul suckle his fingers, before his eyes slid back down to his lover’s crotch. His free hand slid up from Paul’s knee over his thigh, before wrapping around his twitching erection. Paul let out a deep low groan at the feeling and thrust his hips up to meet John’s movements. 

He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to focus on the way John’s hand gripped his cock, holding it firmly in his fist as he moved his hand up and down, pumping him slowly and sending shivers of pleasure from Paul’s cock to his stomach. He loved watching John’s hand work him, seeing those thick fingers wrapped around him, his thumb flicking over the head, spreading the precum around. He loved seeing the veins of John’s hands, and he loved how soft John’s hands felt against the sensitive skin of his cock. 

More than that though, he wanted what John had promised him, and he thrust his hips up once more with a needy whiny to urge his lover on. 

“Come, John,” he said around the fingers in his mouth. “Just… ugh, just give them.” 

“What was that, Macca?” John said with a chuckle, removing his fingers from Paul’s mouth, but Paul merely rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t tease, Lennon,” he huffed and with one last chuckle from his lover, John finally did as requested. 

Keeping his hand on Paul’s cock, he slowed his pace as the other hand dipped down between his legs, below Paul’s balls, where they pressed against the little patch of skin right above where Paul actually wanted them. He let out a groan at the touch, wiggling his hips to encourage John on, and gasped as John trailed them further down until they finally found his entrance. 

“God, yes…” Paul moaned, moving his hips down to encourage John on. “Please…” 

Nodding, John retreated his hands once more to grab the lube from the bedside table, much to Paul’s frustration, who reached down to wrap his own hand around his cock, giving himself a few slow strokes as he waited for John. When John returned, he quickly lubed up his fingers and knelt between Paul’s legs. Keeping them open with one hand, he let the other return to Paul’s opening. Paul gasped as he felt them, cold and slick, pressing first, before circling the rim a few times and finally slowly pressing inside. 

He groaned at the feeling of his rim slowly giving way to John’s fingers, spreading him, and closed his eyes as his hand paused on his cock. It felt good, finally getting John’s fingers inside; starting with one, before John added a second, pressing on as Paul tried to relax around them. Not for the first time, he wished he could see it: John’s hand on his thigh, holding him open, as the other probed at his entrance, his fingers disappearing inside of him. He wished he could see through John’s eyes, even just once. 

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine them as John started to move two of his fingers and in and out of him, scissoring them to open him up further. He tried to imagine what it looked like, and slowly began stroking his cock in time with John’s movements. 

“Fuck, John…” Paul moaned, pressing back as John nudged that little spot inside of him. 

“That good, baby?” John asked. He leaned down to place a kiss against Paul’s knee. 

“So good… God…” 

John chuckled, presumably at how far gone Paul already sounded, but Paul did not care. He only wanted more, and bore down onto the two fingers with an impatient noise, hoping to take them in deeper. To his relief, John understood his wishes and sped up his movements, fucking Paul with his fingers as Paul let himself relax into the mattress, focussing on the feeling alone and enjoying the pleasure that was steadily building up inside of him. He could feel the pleasure spread through him like an electrified warmth. 

When John finally curled his fingers inside of him, pressing down directly onto his prostate and stroking it, Paul could only let out a choked gasp as the pleasure rippled through him. It was almost too much, yet at the same time it wasn’t quite enough, needing more and less at the same time.

“J-John…” Paul tried, but all that came out of his throat were incomprehensible noises. 

“What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want,” John muttered, his free hand stroking up and down Paul’s thigh in a soothing manner as Paul clamped down around him, wordlessly asking for more. Paul tried to speak, tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Not that he even know what he would have said if they had. He just wanted…  _ more _ . He needed release. He needed John. 

“You gonna come for me? Just from my fingers inside of you?” John continued, and Paul whined as his cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment, pleasure and effort. He bit down his lip as John sped up his movements. 

“Come for me, Paulie. I wanna see you come. You always look so pretty when you come, spread wide around my fingers. Come on, let’s add one more, shall we?” 

Paul didn’t have time to respond, and simply groaned as he felt John retreat his finger, only to slide them back in with a third. The spread burned, but it was all Paul needed, jerking his cock harder as he felt his orgasm draw closer and closer, and with one last well-timed press against the little bump inside of him, Paul came, throwing his head back and moaning John’s name as his body tightened at the pleasure that washed over him. 

Far away, he could hear John curse, but Paul was too far done to be aware of anything other than his pleasure and the feeling of John’s fingers inside of him, still moving, slowly, dragging out his orgasm. The stimulation was almost too much and when Paul finally collapsed, exhausted, on the bed, he was relieved to feel John’s fingers slip out of him. 

“Christ, Macca…” Paul could hear John say and he felt his body jostle on the bed as John moved to lie down beside him, tangling his legs with Paul’s as he rested on his elbow. “Was that what you needed?”

Paul snickered at the question, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at John, who was watching him with a smug grin on his lips and an admiring look in his eyes. Languidly, he tried to roll onto his side, bringing his hand up to cup John’s jaw, his thumb caressing his cheek, before he leaned in to press a thankful kiss to his lips. 

“Everything and more,” he said and John smiled. 

“You are still going to return the favour, right?” he asked and Paul let out a chuckle at the question. 

“Only if you ask nicely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you thought! Tomorrow's prompt will be "under the influence". And thanks again, chut, for reading this through for me!


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